Hello Love
by Angsty Anime Star
Summary: After Roger leaves for Santa Fe, Mimi commits suicide. And Mark finds himself following his best friend's footsteps. Why? Its simple; love. But Roger's scared, and Mark wont let him run anymore. Mark/Roger.


**Well Vita and I had so much fun on the last one we decided to do more collabs...actually, we have a list of thirty of them. xD So we're doing one a night or something, cause yeah, we get bored. **

**Disclaimer: Nah-uh, not ours. Rent was written before we...well, I was born, and unless Vitz it hiding something from me....**

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All this time he was seeing them. First it was Angel, then Mark, then Mimi, and now Mark again. But what was happening now was more than an 'almost sort of him' that he'd been seeing. Roger was clearly sure Mark was heading towards him, fuming mad. He shook his head and muttered, "I really need help. I'm seeing shit."

"You really do." He heard Marks voice clearly. The musician glanced around to see if other people heard him too. But, seeing as how they ignored all of the loud songs he played, they were a terrible way to tell. 'Mark' rolled his eyes. "Yes I really am here."

Roger just stared at him, dumbfound. He rubbed his eyes but 'Mark' didn't disappear. He was sure he was delusional, from the heat? Maybe getting sick? Again he tried to make to image go away to no avail. So he decided to play along. Maybe this was one of those life changing dreams. An epiphany. "What are you doing here?" he asked bitterly.

Mark sighed. "Mimi's dead." He stated it so simply. He didn't say how she hung herself after running from rehab. He said nothing about he had to clean up the body.

Roger found himself staring again. "No...No....she's not." he murmured, still trying to clear away this twisted image. Frustrated with himself, he got up and started in the other direction at a fast paced walk.

"Running away again?!" Mark demanded his voice choking. He was tired of all this, tired of his best friend falling in love with junkies who have a constant need to kill themselves; Tired of empty rooms, without the sound of a guitar or laughter in the background. "If you're going to run," He chased after his friend. "I'm running with you."

And Roger stopped in his tracks. He wasn't sure is he wanted to laugh or cry. He didn't know if this dream Mark was just about to vanish again and he'd be left alone. He didn't know if Mimi was really dead. Hell it, he didn't know if Mark was dead. But he didn't care. He left. He didn't care. That's what he told himself every time he thought of them. "No." he found himself pushing Mark away again, turning in on another street.

Mark followed, annoyed and frustrated. "Am I real?" He asked, almost sarcastically. "That's what you're asking yourself. Am I real or not?"

"I don't fucking know anymore!" Roger wouldn't meet his eye.

The filmmaker sighed. "Typical." Typical Roger, for not believing his problems are real. To even say that _he_ wasn't real. He punched Roger in the face; it just seemed like the most logical thing to do. "Well now you do!"

The musician recoiled, not at the hit, but at the new realization. "Oh my....oh fuck....she's....you're..." he choked on his words.

Marks first instinct was to comfort his friend. To forgive him for leaving. To say he understood why he did. To say that Mimi died happy. To Lie. But the filmmaker despised lying, and was never good at it. So, in lue of lying, Mark told the truth.

"Yes, Mimi's dead. I'm here." Mark's voice choked violently. "And you left!"

Mimi's dead. But Roger didn't care. Roger hated Mimi. Another day. Another day, he said. But there wasn't going to be a-fucking-nother day! Roger always knew Mark could read him like a book so he didn't need to speak. And he didn't honestly think he'd be able to. But he had to remind himself again that Mark was here. Mark came here. After him? For him? He didn't know why. He knew his friend didn't deserve this…

"You're wondering why I dragged my lonely ass out here, aren't you?" Mark spat, though less venomously than before. Roger managed a slight nod and Mark couldn't help but chuckle. "Because you're here." He tried to sling his arm over the musician's shoulder but Roger flinched at the touch.

He was starting to get convinced this was 'Mark' again, because Mark was mad at him. He had half an instinct to bolt away, head into dark alley paths he knew Mark had more common sense than to follow him in, but for some reason he didn't move. Or to better phrase it, he couldn't.

"Why did you leave?" Mark asked meekly, fighting to get a response from his friend. Roger shook his head. "Answer me for once!" Mark yelled. "Just say something Roger-like."

"What do you want to hear? That I couldn't stand getting close to someone I knew was going to die? That I didn't want to see another funeral so soon? That I couldn't live that 'No Day but Today' method that everyone else made look so fucking easy? That I-' he was cut off by Mark's lips. More specifically, Mark's lips on his.

On any other circumstance Roger wouldn't have minded it. In fact, he longed for it. But this time he pulled away. He couldn't handle Mark dying too. Those who loved him died, those he loved back died faster. It just happened like that.

There was a brief moment in which both exchanged a glance, all they needed to say expressed. Still, neither could really fathom the other. All Roger wanted was for Mark to understand why this could never work. And all Mark wanted to get through was how much he really needed him there. How deathly quiet it was in the loft, and how suicide was sounding better and better with each passing day.

"Mark...I'm sorry." Roger said, attention diverted to the floor, remorse his only expression.

"You still didn't answer my question." Mark refused to forgive him until he knew why.

Roger sighed. "You. Okay, Mark, that's the fucking reason." he turned around to leave again.

Mark jumped in front of him, blocking Roger's path. He knew the musician was much stronger than him, but at the moment he didn't care. "Me?"

"Yes, Mark. You." Roger repeated.

"What did I do?"

"It not what you did exactly. More of what I can't do." he explained.

"Stay, you mean?" Mark sighed. He wasn't mad anymore, but he wasn't going to let him leave either. He had to know if... no. That would be impossible.

"That's...sort of it....in a metaphorical way...." Roger shoved his hands in his pockets.

Mark was blushing; something that happened only when girls were being only mildly flirtatious, or when he really liked the person. _"But he doesn't feel that way about me?"_ Mark thought. _"Does he?"_ He asked himself. But on the outside he only asked, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Since we both know that with my articulation skills we'll be trying to figure this out all day, let me replay something from a few moments ago." The words rushed out of Roger's mouth and before Mark could even wonder what the fuck he was talking about Roger was kissing him.

And it was perfect. Mark completely forgot about Mimi; about everyone in the Alphabet City he left behind. For those sweet seconds he forgot about Mo and her drama, Collins and his ever-knowing smirk. He paid no heed to the people who stared at them as they passed by. He just pressed his lips back and grabbed Rogers waist.

Roger wanted to pull away sooner, but it felt so right. He wanted it so much. It made both him and Mark so happy. They deserved to be happy, right? After everything, this wasn't wrong. But he knew it couldn't continue. He slowly broke away.

Mark caught his breath. "Roger?"

"Yeah?" Roger asked, looking into Mark's eyes for the first time that day.

"What the fuck?" Mark wasn't angry- it was just the only thing he could say.

"_This_ is why I left. _This_ is what I want. And_ this_ is what I refuse to let become reality." Roger seemed to be in his cryptic song-writer mode once again.

"You want to live in this burning hot place where everybody passes on without thinking? With no heart, no soul?" Mark sighed "Hell's better than this." Roger found it ironic how much this sounded like the life he always wanted to avoid.

So he only nodded his agreement. "All so true. But I can't...I can't have that...you...us. I don't want you to get hurt..." he voice had sunk to almost incoherent and his words left his mouth before he had the chance to think about them.

"Get hurt? How?"

"Don't give me that. It's fucking inevitable."

"Because everything you love dies?"

"Of course. And in the off chance that that doesn't happen, then when you're 'the one to survive' it'll be all the more painful."

"Roger, if I haven't died yet, and I've loved you since high school, then I doubt I'll die anytime soon." Mark was joking lightly; he didn't like how Roger sounded. "Nothing's set in stone, remember?"

"Nothing's set in stone until you push your luck and set it." The morbid tone in the rocker's voice was heavier than usual.

"Then I'm going to find wherever this fuckin' rock is kept and smash it to a million little pieces." Mark pulled his friend into a hug.

And for once Roger didn't argue, nor did he leave. He just held on tighter, never wanting to let go.

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**That was fun to write. I got to make Roger angsty. 'Nuff said. Please review xD**


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